Wine, Music, and a Touch of Road Rage
by PhantomInspector
Summary: A silly crack!fic to relieve my general fanfic block. A vignette involving Helga, Isaak, alcohol, tobacco, and electronic devices, all in one car. Will they make it to headquarters in one piece? Why don't you read and find out? Rated for Helga's language.


Maybe it was the mix of the music playing on iTunes (namely Boston's "More Than a Feelin'"), the pics of Helga von Vogelwiede I found on DeviantArt, and the reading assignment for my writing class. One particular paragraph in the chapter pointed out some people's comparison of driving while on a cell phone to driving while listening to the radio. It claimed that some researchers believe that using a cell phone while driving is more similar to driving drunk.

It suddenly hit me: Helga driving the RKO's silver SUV while talking on a cell, the radio blasting "More Than a Feelin'", and Isaak sitting in the passenger's seat pouring himself a glass of wine. _Presto_.

Disclaimer: I don't own Trinity Blood or its character. I don't own "More Than a Feelin'", either. So just flippin' enjoy this piece of crack. And have a nice day.

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Wine, Music, and a Touch of Road Rage

-

"No, darling, I _told_ you," said Helga, "we already passed Exit 52. We're following the signs to Cologne, just like you said. Yes. Yes. What? Why? Oh, fine. Yes. Yes, of course I mean it! Who can appreciate Sieglinde's handiwork as much as me? Oh, wait, here's another sign. It's Exit 55 we need, right? Huh? What? I don't know. Well, I don't know! Of course I'm paying attention, I'm an excellent driver! Well, yes. What? So? That doesn't mean I'm not paying attention, these highways are so damn confusing! All right! Yes, all right, I'll check again. But I'm pretty sure there isn't one. Well, then, I'll ask someone. Who? I don't know, one of those Neanderthals that live along the side in the woods. You know the ones. What did he say? Of course they're Neanderthals, they're certainly not civilized! Fine. _Fine_. I'll check one more time. Very well. All right, darling, thank you, I'll call you back. Yes, dear, thank you. Kisses."

She snapped the phone shut and dropped it in her lap. "How the hell is it possible that you don't keep a damn map in this thing?"

Isaak shrugged as he carefully tipped the mouth of his wine bottle into his glass. "I'm not really sure. Dietrich did say something recently about making a paper doll collection."

"You're not funny, you know that? What a mess you boys make, too. It smells awful in here! And could you turn that damn music down? I could barely hear Melchior on the other end."

"You know I would, my dear" – he took a moment to blow a smoke ring in her direction – "but my hands are somewhat occupied at the moment." His cigarillo dangled treacherously from his lips, and the drops of wine splashed as he continued to pour. He began singing along with the radio under his breath: "_I begin dreamin' (more than a feelin') till I see Marianne walk away . . ._"

The Ice Witch gritted her teeth, reminding herself that it was unladylike to growl. _One of these days,_ she thought, _I'm going to make us switch, even if he brings the whole liquor cabinet with him. Maybe he can put us both out of our misery_.

"Why must _I_ be the one to pick you up from your missions by car?" she grumbled at last.

Isaak disposed the remains of the cigarillo into the change tray and took of brief sip of crimson comfort. "Well, Di is still trying to pass his driver's exam by not intentionally scaring pedestrians. Radu and Guderian cannot drive at all, Melchior is too manic to be trusted behind the wheel, Balthasar suffers from an unreasonable degree of claustrophobia, and Kaspar can barely make it out of a parking lot because he constantly checks his make-up."

"What about Susanne, then?"

"I believe she once declared automobiles as 'inferior, vulgar machines' that lack the grace of her beloved airship. Or something like that. After a while I start tuning her out."

_Me, too,_ Helga thought reluctantly. She hated it when they agreed on something.

"By the way, I believe that's Exit 55."

"What?" Helga tossed her head up. "Oh sh—"

The tires nearly caught on fire from the sharp turn. A shower of ashes and wine rained on the driver.

"Goddamit, Wizard!!"

"That was _not_ my fault."

"Not your fault?! Why I ought to . . ."

-----

"Balthasar?" called Melchior from his desk chair. "I've called Helga twice and she has not answered. Shall we assume the worst?"

The oldest Neumann brother sighed and rubbed his temple. "Why don't we check the news first for any major travesties? Then we'll go from there."

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_Fin._

It's not like there was only one way to get RKO members back to base. :D

There really isn't enough Helga fiction out there. She may be a bitch, but she's a badass bitch! And badass bitches need love, too!


End file.
